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on Ukraine
sunrise dulls night’s starsunder lunar indifferenceresistance is allthree years have spunwith nothing to celebrateexcept life itselfthis fight not overembattled Kyiv’s trams will runthere is still a pulsehospitals and schoolsbakeries and street marketsprecious exchangesmoney greases handsmerchants of war grow fatterUkraine their foir grasyellow and blue bandswheat sent by sea feeds the worldtherein grains of truthone man →
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on 80 years
My mother was not yet tenWhen she first heard the words “Never again”She’d heard them then and sinceAgain and againI went to Krakow to visit a friendSaw the Katyn memorial to 22,000 murdered menBut chose not to visit AuschwitzWhere tourists go to see the truthTo see the place where a million and more were slainAfter →
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on life
Met an old friendWho told me about an old friendYounger than either of usAnd not very wellNot very well at allSo I called my younger old friendSaid I’d seen our old friendWho’d told meYou’re feeling a bit under the weatherYes, he said, cheerfullyAll the world’s a stageAnd I’m on Stage 4Under the lightsUnder the doctorCurrent →
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on Law
Only seen the man on tellyKnocking a ball into goalsHeaders, volleys, bicycle kicksA back-heelThe pitches were so poorSo much mudEven on a colour TVThe games from ManchesterAppeared to be played in black & whiteDenis Law, a slight, feisty ScotHeld his sleeve cuffs in his fistsStretched his shirt from wrist to collarKids copied that on winter →
Journey of Words 